The Codex Visionum and the Uses of Greek Christian Poetry

Abstract

A systematic socio-cultural study of the uses of Christian poetry in the late antique Greek-speaking Mediterranean is still lacking. Most literary overviews restrict themselves to an overview of the extant texts and some programmatic reflections in the poetry by Gregory of Nazianzus. This paper seeks to address this matter by a combined reading of the best-known poetic forms (including the programmatic reflections by Gregory) and the poems copied in the Codex Visionum (now in the Bodmer Collection). Since the edition of the latter was completed in 1999, they have often featured in studies on the origin of monasticism and are well known in papyrological circles, but have received insufficient attention from literature and cultural historians.

1. Introduction: Topic and Methodology

Christians, like everybody else in Late Antiquity, made use of poetry. No matter what their beliefs, Greek speakers were likely to make active/productive and/or passive/receptive use of metre in a number of situations: in worship (hymns), in an epitaph when they died, for aesthetic pleasure and in displays of learning (paideia). The composition and reception of poetry by Christians could be guided by the same (rhetorical, aesthetic) principles that influenced their non-Christian contemporaries, with the added twist that the creative appropriation of Classical literature was done under the auspices of the Bible (and subsidiary texts) and mediated by the Christian ethos.1

This paper deals with two bodies of evidence, (1) programmatic passages frequently analysed to discuss the uses of Christian poetry in Greek, and (2) the poems transmitted by Codex Visionum, an Egyptian codex dated to the turn of the fifth century. The former can be used to enlighten our understanding of the Codex Visionum and in the opposite direction the evidence of the Codex Visionum can clarify and enhance our knowledge of the Christian uses of Greek poetry in Late Antiquity.

I will first give an overview of the known uses of Greek poetry (Section 2), focusing in particular on programmatic passages by Gregory of Nazianzus. Section 3 is an introduction to the Codex Visionum, both to the individual texts and the context of their copying. Section 4 will analyse the main uses of poetry as revealed by the poems of the codex. Each of the subsections will be rounded up by partial conclusions, to avoid a final overly long conclusions section.

2. Known Uses of Greek Christian Poetry

Early Christian writings (Eph. 5:19–20; Col. 3:16) note that (rhythmic or even poetic) hymns were central to community worship. When sung or recited by the community, they commemorated and updated its religious history; unified and homogenised the spiritual experience of past, present and future believers, who had one voice in God; praised and pleased God; and elevated aesthetically both singers and listeners. Some of the earliest were recorded in the Gospel of Luke: the Magnificat (Lk 1:46–55), the Benedictus (Lk 1:68–79) and the Nunc dimittis (Lk 2:29–32) (McGuckin 2008; Brucker 2014). Second- and third-century pieces are not numerous and yet are metrically disparate (Löhr 2014; Leonhard 2014): P.Oxy. 1786, a hymn with musical notation, written in a quantitative metre; the anapaestic hymn to Christ preserved by Clement of Alexandria (Paedagogus 3.12.101); the iambic hymn to Christ, bridegroom of the Church, cited by Methodius of Olympus at the end of his Banquet.2

The Oracula Sibyllina include a number of Christian books that draw on the tradition of the oracular hexameter: 1–2 review the history of the human race, from the creation of the world to the Day of Judgement (Lightfoot 2007); book 6 is a hymn (28 verses); 7–8 gather heterogeneous material.3 Christian oracles sought to harness past, present and future reality accommodating it to Christian belief, but Christian writers such as Eusebius, Lactantius and Cyril of Alexandria cited both Christian and non-Christian ones as confirmation of their faith (Busine 2005a, 2005b; Nieto Ibáñez 2010; Tissi 2018).

As for Christian inscriptions, the epitaph of Abercius (Merkelbach and Stauber 2001, 16/07/01),4 dated to the late second or early third c. AD, is supposed to be the oldest Christian inscription. Christian inscriptions, often with Homeric resonances, became more abundant in the third and fourth c. AD.5 All ancient epitaphs sought to preserve (and control) the memory of the deceased. When metrical, they linked with a long tradition of displays of learning and of presenting the deceased as a cultured person.

Evidence of the use of poetry by Christians in the first three centuries AD is, therefore, scanty, varied and related to different functions (remembrance, celebration, adoration, confirmation of faith) in known contexts (communal worship, cemetery or exegetical writing). In the fourth century, two historical references reflect on how Christians ‘transposed’ Greek forms and genres onto Christian content in an attempt to substitute or supersede ‘pagan’ literature, especially in connection with the reactions to Julian’s edict on Christian teachers.6

According to Socrates (HE 3.16), Apollinaris the elder (a teacher of grammar) transposed the Pentateuch into heroic hexameter (διὰ τοῦ ἡρωικοῦ λεγομένου μέτρου μετέβαλεν) and the rest of the Old Testament into historiography (ἐν ἱστορίας τύπῳ), poems in dactylic metre (τῷ δακτυλικῷ μέτρῳ), tragedies (τῷ τῆς τραγῳδίας τύπῳ δραματικῶς) and all rhythmical metres (παντὶ μέτρῳ ῥυθμικῷ—hymns?). At the same time, his son, Apollinaris the younger (a teacher of rhetoric), transposed the Gospels and the teachings of the apostles as Platonic dialogues. Sozomen (HE 5.18.3–5) attributes this project to one Apollinaris who transposed the Pentateuch in Homeric-style heroic hexameters in twenty-four books (like the Iliad or the Odyssey). Other books became Menander-style comedies, tragedies in the style of Euripides and lyric poetry after Pindar, each of them equivalent in spirit, diction, language and structure to their ‘pagan’ models (ἤθει τε καὶ φράσει καὶ χαρακτῆρι καὶ οἰκονομίᾳ ὁμοίας τοῖς παρ’ Ἕλλησιν ἐν τούτοις εὐδοκιμήσασιν).

Socrates and Sozomen describe a project to produce a complete Greek Christian literature, successfully replicating chosen ancient models (Homer and not Hesiod, Menander and not Aristophanes, Euripides and not Aeschylus nor Sophocles, Pindar but not Archilochus or Sappho). This would suggest an understanding of epic restricted to Homer, an attempt to uphold some sort of generic purity, and the illusion that the Hebraic/Christian content of the Scriptures would not be modified by creating a new version with different metre, diction and literary dialect and structure. Additionally, the activity of Christian writers would be limited to paraphrasing the core texts of Christianity, never producing new content, although this episode is recorded by two historians who are effectively breaking new ground in recounting what happened close to their times. It is not clear how exactly we should interpret Socrates and Sozomen, but they cannot possibly be taken as the only possible explanation for the surge of Christian poetry in Late Antiquity.

Already in the fourth century and more clearly in the fifth, highly educated figures such as Gregory of Nazianzus (ca. 330–90), Synesius of Cyrene (370–413) and Nonnus of Panopolis (fl. 420–50) make it much more complicated to discuss the reasons for composing Christian poetry and its uses. As Christianity became increasingly dominant, Christians began to produce new literature in Classical styles and genres, with Christian content, effectively enhancing the interpenetration of the two cultures. The old notion (if it ever existed) of replacing Classical literature with the Bible and Bible-derived texts seems to have been abandoned. In post-Constantinian times, all areas and aspects of society were gradually Christianised and Christian poets were actively furthering this process in the cultural sphere.

Synesius wrote nine hymns, fusing Christianity, Classical culture and Neoplatonic philosophy: Christ is presented as a divine hero who rises through the spheres to show the way to immortality to his initiates. Although labelled ‘hymns’ these compositions were probably never used as liturgical pieces, and one presumes that Synesius wrote them to bring all his identities (bishop, pepaideumenos, philosopher) under one poetic roof, to be aesthetically enjoyed by educated Christians like him.7

Nonnus penned a 48-book Dionysiaca on a ‘pagan’ topic in which Christian bias is visible (Shorrock 2016). The D. vows to vie with the ancients (specifically Homer) and more recent poets for a place in the Classical tradition.8 Nonnus was also the author of a Paraphrase of the Gospel of John, in which the 21 chapters of the Gospel become 21 books of Homeric-style hexameters,9 not Platonic dialogues as in Socrates HE 3.15–16. The P. treats the Gospel text through the lens of the exegetical tradition, and condenses the exegesis of the gospel10 in a form similar to that of the literati who read Homer with commentaries and auxiliary grammatical works.11 The aim of the P. is not explicit,12 but the poem enriches the language and theology of the Gospel text, written in very ‘simple’ koine,13 and would have been a source of aesthetic pleasure and a means to display learning (paideia) for late antique learned readers. Didactic forms and a teaching intent are also visible in the form of the expansion and exploration of the figure of Jesus as a teacher and echoes of the long didactic tradition (Hadjittofi 2020a).

Additionally, the P. was long considered to have been written to define and uphold orthodoxy, because its first lines of the P. refer to the Creed (Miguélez-Cavero 2019), several characters are praised for their ‘right faith’ (ὀρθὴ πίστις)14 and Cyril of Alexandria’s Commentary to the Gospel of John is considered by many to be its main exegetic.15 It has, however, been noticed that assuming that Cyril was Nonnus’ main source actually obscures his creative combination of multiple sources (Simelidis 2016), and some of his lines seem to allow for more than one interpretation, effectively accommodating non-orthodox ones (Hadjittofi 2018, 2020b).

The poems by Synesius and Nonnus display a perfectly wielded fusion of Classical paideia and Christian faith, both accompanied by their own forms of erudition (historical grammar, exegesis/theology). The cultural arena had changed with the expansion of Christianity but was still very much a continuation of the pre-Christian one. These poems would not have been written for their use in communal celebrations, as part of the liturgy of the word. Their target audiences would have been reduced, the literati, who sought aesthetic pleasure in smaller communities of reference in which Christians and non-Christians, both complex categories with different sensibilities each, would probably mix. The didactic and spiritual intent cannot be considered secondary, as by giving new forms to the faith of the Bible and by incorporating theological and exegetical reflection, even if meagre, these poems would add to the spiritual formation and reflection of readers.

Unlike Synesius and Nonnus, Gregory reflected on the uses and appropriate forms of Christian poetry. His production is ample and difficult to assess: he wrote 17,000 lines, in all classic metres (hexameters, elegiacs, iambics, ionics), with complex generic labels and expected uses. For instance, Carmina quae spectant ad alios 2.17 ostensibly seeks to convert the pagan Nemesius, but as a poem with a pastoral aim it is also a Christian variant of the Classical didactic genre or a self-standing Christian genre with Classical connections; at the same time, although Nemesius was the recipient of the text, it was probably directed to a broader public of open-minded pagan intellectuals (Demoen 1997, pp. 9–10). His reflections on Christian poetry are indicative of the nuances of the subject.

His In suos versus (Carmina 2.1.39) is particularly relevant.16 The poem begins with Gregory complaining in verse about contemporary prose authors, who despite their toil (3 ἐν πόνοις), produce only wordy, insubstantial texts (4 κενὴ γλωσσαλγία).17 There is no reference to the content of their writings, but Gregory gives them the double advice of clinging to God’s inspired books (9b-10) and God’s inspiration, the Holy Spirit (13). Gregory himself aims to write straight-forward texts (17 Ἀναμφιλέκτους… λόγους), apparently in prose, but then he consigns his own toil to the writing of poetry (24 Μέτροις τι δοῦναι τῶν ἐμῶν πονημάτων). The only explicit connection between the writing of prose and poetry is the writer’s effort (3 ἐν πόνοις, 24 τῶν ἐμῶν πονημάτων). The influence of the Scripture and the inspiration of the Spirit remain in the background and are suggested when he wishes “May [God´s] word never leave me so alone” (32 Μή μοι τοσοῦτον ἐκπέσοι Θεοῦ λόγος). (Christian) poetry, therefore, existed in a literary continuum with prose.

Before actually accounting for his wishes on writing poetry, Gregory rules out fame (25), an empty thing (26b-27a δόξαν… κενὴν), although other Christian writers find a way of seeking it for the right motives, the singing of God’s praises in opposition with the empty vanity of ‘pagan’ poets.18 Then he lists the four aims of his poems. The first one is to put constraints on his prolixity (35 πεδῆσαι τὴν ἐμὴν ἀμετρίαν), because the effort of writing poetry (37a καμὼν τὸ μέτρον) will prevent him from writing too much.19

Secondly, to make agreeable the medicine (of faith) by proposing convincing arguments for the most useful (39–40 Ὥσπερ τι τερπνὸν τοῦτο δοῦναι φάρμακον, /πειθοῦς ἀγωγὸν εἰς τὰ χρησιμώτερα) and to sweeten bitter commandments (41b τὸ πικρὸν τῶν ἐντολῶν). The serious content is sweetened by the use of art (41a τέχνῃ), none other than the appropriate metrics, which has a relaxing effect similar to that of music on the audience.20 This is an intellectual appraisal of poetry, not a suggestion that poetry is expected to be accompanied by the lyre. Christian poetry should have a didactic and religious function, but this is not explicitly linked to a particular context (not school,21 not specific liturgies conducted in the Church or part of a sermon). ‘Didactic’ and ‘religious’ may not be the best labels to describe what Christian poetry seeks and we would be better served by saying that late antique Christian poetry seeks the spiritual deepening of the poet and audience. This may take different forms: renovation of an ancient Biblical text, theological elucidation, advice on how to live as a Christian, celebration of God, discussion of what makes a community a truly Christian one, search for truly Christian emotions and feelings, the definition of beauty with God as the ultimate referent and so forth.

In the third place, to seek superiority with regards to pagan poets (48b-9 οὐδ’ ἐν λόγοις/ Πλέον δίδωμι τοὺς ξένους ἡμῶν ἔχειν “I cannot bear that strangers should possess/the prize in letters, rather than ourselves”).22 Gregory specifies that the competition with them is unequal because although in form they can be superior (50 Τούτοις λέγω δὴ τοῖς κεχρωσμένοις λόγοις), in content Christians will necessarily be better as they offer the contemplation of real beauty in Christian faith (51 Εἰ καὶ τὸ κάλλος ἡμῖν ἐν θεωρίᾳ). The poetic form is retained because it is useful (96 χρησιμώτερον) in the greater plan of attracting audiences to God.23

Christian poetry is thus expected to abide both by the rules, methods and modes of Classical poetry and those of the Old Testament, although the specific influence of the latter is never made clear in In suos versus or in other poems. On the contrary, it seems that the formal link to Hebrew poetry is a notional one, condensed in the reference to model poetic figures such as David or Solomon.24 Most Greek-speaking poets would not be able to read Hebrew and approached the Old Testament through the Greek translation of the Septuaginta.

Gregory’s fourth aim is particularly complex:

54–7 Τέταρτον εὗρον τῇ νόσῳ πονούμενος

Παρηγόρημα τοῦτο, κύκνος ὡς γέρων,

Λαλεῖν ἐμαυτῷ τὰ πτερῶν συρίγματα,

Oὐ θρῆνον, ἀλλ’ ὕμνον τιν’ ἐξιτήριον.

“Fourth, I have found these poems a consolation/When, weighed by illness, like an aging swan,/I make the whistling of my wings a song:/Not mournful, but a kind of parting hymn”

One can translate 55 παρηγόρημα (LSJ, s.v.) as ‘consolation’ but also as ‘remedy’. This makes poetry a φάρμακον ‘medicine’ (39) for the illnesses of soul (ignorance, lack of faith, spiritual suffering) and body (Gregory’s infirmity), in its reception and composition, akin to the production and listening to of music.25 Christian poetry is not only about revisiting Christian topics (the Creation as in the Genesis, the Incarnation in the Gospel of John with subsequent exegetic and dogmatic takes on the subject, God’s salvific power), but also a form of personal introspection or spiritual reflection, which has a medicinal effect on the poet who puts his pain in God’s hands in metrical form, and in those reading and listening to the poem who can thus undergo a similar vicarious experience.

Threnoi (57 θρῆνον) were the compositions typically sung on the death of a person in pre-Christian times, and Christian preachers sought to limit their use in Christian funerary rituals. Hymns (e.g., Psalms) should be sung instead, celebrating God in his wisdom and consoling the mourners without allowing them to lose hope and faith.26 Not all forms/genres are appropriate for a Christian poet: the material (here Gregory’s pain, infirmity and parting) should be given a form compatible with the Christian faith of the poet (a celebratory hymn, not a mourning dirge).

3. The Codex Visionum

The Codex Visionum was part of a library including books in Greek, Latin and Coptic, covering Christian and non-Christian topics.27 Its finding spot is unknown but assumed to be Upper Egypt, perhaps in the area of Panopolis (Fournet 2015, pp. 17–20). In this miscellaneous codex,28 six hands copied ca. 400 d.C. one previously known prose text (1) and several poems (2–10) of which this is the first and only extant copy.

• P.Bodmer 38 The Shepherd of Hermas, Visions I-IV. A nearly canonical prose text,29 probably written in Rome in the 2nd c. AD, it narrates the five visions Hermas has, four sent by the Church, who takes the form of an old woman, and the final one by a messenger (the angel of repentance), dressed as a shepherd. A total of 12 ethical instructions (Gr. ἐντολαί, Lat. mandata) and 10 parables (Gr. παραβολαί, Lat. similitudines) follow. The Codex included Visions I-IV, but IV, copied in the central folio, is lost.
• P.Bodmer 29 Dorotheus’ Vision (Ὅρασις Δωροθέου), often referred to as the Visio Dorothei (VD).30 Dorotheus, son of the poet Quintus,31 retells his vision of God’s palace where he commits two serious sins: abandoning the gates he has been ordered to invigilate, and trespassing into the palace, where he follows an old man he accuses of stealing. He is put on trial and condemned to lashing by God himself, but because he has repented he is allowed to return to his previous job, still covered in blood. He is offered baptism and chooses Andrew as his new name, upon which he is endowed with strength and valour (ἀνδρεία—a pun on the name) and dressed in new vestments.
• P.Bodmer 30 On Abraham (Πρὸς Ἀβραάμ):32 prelude (lines 1–3), alphabetic acrostic (4–27) and conclusion (29–31). Speeches of Abraham, Sarah and Isaac accepting Isaac’s sacrifice, after Gen. 22:1–19.
• P.Bodmer 31 On the Righteous (Πρὸς δικαίους):33 164 elegiac distichs reminding just men (δίκαιοι) of the dangers of sin, especially the pull of worldly possessions, in the context of divine judgement, and advising on the importance of a complete conversion (μετάνοια), which may lead to martyrial death. In the final lines, Dorotheus becomes a model for reaching heaven.
• P.Bodmer 32 [Praise] of the Lord Jesus, or [Works] of the Lord Jesus (here referred to as Lord Jesus) is another alphabetic acrostic. It sings Christ’s praises and refers to basic concepts such as his divine filiation, majesty and ἀρετή (virtue and power), bringing peace to earth and freeing humanity of death and sin.
• P.Bodmer 33 What would Cain say after killing Abel? (Τί ἂν εἴποι ὁ Καιν ἀποκτείνας τὸ[ν Ἀβελ;—referred to as Cain) is an ethopoea,34 a 10-line reconstruction of the poetic words Cain would have said, following the cues of Gen. 4:9–19 and focusing on Cain’s pain when he realises he has condemned himself.
• P.Bodmer 34 The Lord to those who suffer (Ὁ δεσπό[τ]ης πρὸς τοὺς πά[σχο]ντας—referred to as Sufferers—(Berolli 2013, 2015)) begins with a three-line proem in which God addresses humanity, followed by an alphabetic acrostic with Christological content.
• P.Bodmer 35 What would Abel say after being killed by Cain? (Τ[ί ἂν εἴπ]οι ὁ Ἀβελ ἀναιρηθεὶς ὑπὸ τοῦ Καιν;—Abel) is an eidolopoea (the reconstructed speech of a dead character), which paraphrases Psalm 102 (101) on the sufferings of the just man.
• P.Bodmer 36 (Norelli 2002) is poorly preserved but looks like a hexametric composition that included a description of the Final Judgement, in which the importance of looking after widows, orphans and the poor, as well as of praising God are mentioned.
• P.Bodmer 37: its scanty remains suggest it was a hymn.

The poems of the C. Visionum are extraordinary pieces of evidence. Not only do we have the text of the poems, but also know the way they looked in Late Antiquity when they were copied and read, how they were gathered next to one another and what other texts were part of the same library. While there is no guarantee that we have the whole of the library—we probably do not as, for instance, there are no copies of the Gospels—the other volumes in the library yield additional information about the categories involved in the anthologisation of Christian texts. In fact, the library included three additional miscellaneous codices,35 in which Classical and Christian texts were combined.

The Susanna-Daniel-Thucydides codex (LDAB 4120) was copied in different hands but in the same quire: Susanna (P.Bodmer XLV), Daniel 1 (P.Bodmer XLVI), an alphabetic acrostic with iambic moral exhortations on virginity inspired in St Paul’s writings (P.Bodmer XLVII (Carlini and Bandini 1991, pp. 164–65)), blank pages and Thucydides VI (P.Bodmer XXVII). The combination of Susanna, Daniel and Thucydides could make this a ‘historical’ codex, gathering together texts from the Bible and Classical tradition, but the alphabetic acrostic would not match the rest of the content, and cannot be linked to any of the three texts in an easy manner. The layout of the page on which the acrostic is copied would suggest a lack of planning.36

The Bodmer ‘composite’ or ‘miscellaneous codex’ (LDAB 2565), copied by at least three scribes, included37 the Genesis of Mary (also known as The Protoevangelium of James, P.Bodmer V), the apocryphal correspondence of Paul and the Corinthians (also known as 3 Corinthians, P.Bodmer X), the eleventh Ode of Solomon (P.Bodmer XI), the Letter of Jude (P.Bodmer VII), Melito’s Sermon on the Passover (P.Bodmer XIII), a (fragment/excerpt of a) hymn (P.Bodmer XII)38 and 1–2 Peter (P.Bodmer VIII).39 These could be broadly considered New Testament texts (Genesis of Mary, 3 Corinthians, Ode of Solomon, Jude, Peter), all of which could be read in liturgy. The same could be said of the hymn and Melito’s homily, which presupposes the public liturgical reading of Exodus 12—if not read in the liturgy it could be used in spiritual preparations for Easter, including citations in sermons.40 In his analysis of this codex, Camplani (2015, pp. 113–19) notes a doctrinal intent, particularly visible in the Genesis of Mary (defending the virginity of Mary and describing the Incarnation), 3Cor (Paul tries to solve a doctrinal crisis on topics similar to those dealt by the Genesis of Mary), Jude (against false teachers), 1 Peter (on baptism and the passion of Christ) and 2 Peter (against false teachers).41 The Ode of Solomon deals with the resurrection and paradise.

The Barcelona-Montserrat miscellaneous codex (LDAB 552) is probably the work of one copyist: the first four pages are missing; pp. 5–47 Cicero In Catilinam 6–8, 13–30 (Latin); pp. 48–56 Psalmus responsorius, an acrostic hymn which the first editor considered dedicated to the Virgin Mary but which could be taken to address the question of the immaculate conception of Christ (Latin);42 p. 57 a drawing, possibly Perseus with Medusa’s head; pp. 58–64 Greek euchologions (including eucharistic anaphora and thanksgiving prayer,43 an exorcism over the oil,44 a prayer for the sick and an acrostic hymn ἁγνὴν θυσίαν, on the sacrifice of Isaac); pp. 65–71 Hexameters on Alcestis (Latin); p. 72 blank; 73–80 story about Hadrian (Latin); pp. 81–106 an alphabetic list of words (Greek).45 The texts in Latin betray a lack of scribal familiarity and would be connected to the learning of Latin by Greek speakers, not to the presence of Latin speakers in the area (Fournet 2015, p. 13). In Catilinam and the story about Hadrian would be texts for learners everywhere, whereas the acrostic hymn would be appropriate for a Christian religious environment, in which Greek speakers would master the religious vocabulary they needed to participate in liturgy or talk to Latin-speaking Christians.46 The alphabetic list of words is of educational use too.47

This particular community had, therefore, several concurrent systems to organise texts in books and Christian and Classical texts were not always separated. In fact, Nongbri (2018, p. 335, fn 111) notes, on speaking of the Thucydides of the Susanna-Daniel-Thucydides codex and the Cicero of the Barcelona codex, “they don’t really constitute a distinct grouping… ‘classical’ versus ‘Christian’ is simply a modern heuristic shorthand. It is very likely that in terms of ownership, readership, and probably copying, these copies of Cicero and Thucydides are Christian books”. Perceived literary genre (e.g., historiography) may have been a reason for gathering texts under one roof, but so was the intended use of the codex (didactic aids, in more than one language, of different sorts—basic vocabulary, liturgical texts to be learned by heart; doctrinal). These scribes seemed to always find it appropriate to insert short Christian texts, be it an exhortation (alphabetic acrostic with iambic moral exhortations P.Bodmer XLVII) or hymn (P.Bodmer XII; Latin acrostic Psalmus responsorius) in a project arranged around a different organising principle.

The poems of the Codex Visionum are challenging in terms of materiality (some pages are very fragmentary, especially poems 9 and 10, which will not be referred to in what follows), content, interpretation and interaction with one another. Because of the recurring presence of the figure of a just man (δίκαιος) who experiences conversion (metanoia) and commits his life to God, it has been suggested that the C. Visionum is the project of a masculine religious community,48 who had a particular appreciation for poetry and literature in general,49 and comprised at least of six members who took turns at copying texts (Crisci 2004, pp. 120–21). The Shepherd of Hermas was clearly written before their time, but we do not really know who (singular or plural) wrote the poems in the codex: as they are not autographs, they could have been brought from elsewhere as particularly relevant for the community or composed there using memories of the martyrdom of Dorotheus. It is, however, clear that the poems are not copied randomly: the VD showcases the figure of Dorotheus, picked up in the Righteous, and proposes a model of the suffering just rewarded by God, then developed in the figures of Abraham, Sarah and Isaac (P.Bodmer 30), Abel (P.Bodmer 33 and 35)50 and the sufferers of The Lord to those who suffer. The connection of the poetic ensemble is highlighted through the repetition of lines of the VD.51

As for their dating, they would have been composed in post-Constantinian times, when martyrdom was no longer a viable means of reaching heaven but was retained in the Christian imaginary as an image of mortification and complete oblation of one’s life to God.52 The risk for post-Constantinian communities was no longer opting out of martyrdom, but tepid faith, well below that of martyrs: hence the fourth century draw to ascetic rigorism (Morard 2002).53

4. Uses of Poetry in the Codex Visionum

4.1. Christian Literary Continuum

The poems of the Codex Visionum present themselves as part of a textual continuum with other forms of poetry and prose considered Christian in Late Antiquity: the Old Testament (with special reference to Genesis and the Psalms), the New Testament (Gospels, letters and Revelation are all the sources of relevant concepts exploited by the poems) and other Christian literary forms, in particular in this case visionary literature (The Shepherd of Hermas) and martyr texts.

The Shepherd of Hermas, the first text of the volume, casts a long shadow over the whole set,54 effectively reminding readers that the first function of Christian poetry is to sit side by side with Christian prose. The Shepherd of Hermas and the VD were clearly copied one after the other because they were thought to belong to the broad genre of visions, featuring prose and poetic texts, inscriptions, Old and New Testament instances as well as Classical referents. The basic narrative of a mortal who has some personal experience of the divine and puts it in writing55 underpins both the VD, where Dorotheus falls asleep and then composes a poem on his vision of the palace of God and The Shepherd.56 Similarly, in the Old Testament, the prophet Habakkuk (Hab. 2:1) vows to stand watch at the rampart waiting for God’s answer to his queries, and God asks him to write the vision on tablets (2:2),57 and the Martyrdom of Perpetua and Felicitas, a Greek translation of the Latin Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas already in circulation in the early fourth century,58 begins with a reference to the importance of writing down experiences for the edification of fellow Christians and honouring God.59

It is not only a case of sharing basic generic traits. The Shepherd touches upon a number of topics which surface regularly in other poems: the call to a complete conversion (metanoia); persecution, martyrdom and punishment (perhaps metaphorical, but crudely described);60 the gifts, rewards and grace God gives to his faithful.61 The tower as the allegory of the Church built with the stones provided by the lives of pious Christians, especially those who have undergone martyrdom, appears in The Shepherd and two of the poems of the Codex.62

This prose–poetry contiguity preempts accusations of the inappropriateness of Christian poetry in Classical style: The Shepherd was considered a near canonic text63 and poetic texts that share visible connections with it would somehow be covered by its protective mantle. The connection is stronger in the case of the VD as both texts belong to the same genre, and lighter with the remaining poems, which, we have seen, also share some motifs (esp. the call to metanoia) with The Shepherd.

Then there is the visible connection with the Bible, especially with the OT. Not only does the OT record visions (e.g., those of Habakkuk and Ezechiel mentioned earlier), but Abraham, Sarah, Isaac (P.Bodmer 30), Cain and Abel (P.Bodmer 32, 34) are all foundational characters of the book of Genesis. Additionally, P.Bodmer 30 is a loose complement of Genesis 22:1–18 and Cain and Abel develop Genesis 4:9–15, with Abel essentially paraphrasing Ps. 101(102), appropriately “A prayer of one afflicted, when faint and pleading before the Lord”. Abel and Isaac inaugurate a vital paradigm followed by Hermas. Dorotheus, and the righteous addressed to in Righteous and Sufferers.

The poems of the Codex Visionum also visibly mark themselves as part of a textual continuum with Classical literature, specifically epic. The spectrum is broad both in terms of authors with whom they posit a relationship (Homer, Hesiod, Apollonius Rhodius) and forms of reference. None of this is surprising, but it is worth analysing the particular choices made in the adaptation of the epic frame.64 These poems incorporate popular epic vocabulary, appropriate for certain characters (Gabriel as ἄγγελος ὠκύς ‘swift messenger/ angel’,65 God and Christ receive the Homeric title ἄναξ often accompanied by the epithet αἰώνιος ‘immortal’,66 the peoples as the epic laos)67 or places (the underworld68 and paradise as the island of Ogygia).69 Earlier, well-known epic poems are also the source of the vocabulary for sin,70 terrible images of punishment (VD 158, 194–5, dogs and vultures devouring entrails), and gestures such as that of supplication or grasping of the knees to make a request.71 The poet(s) claim for their Christian characters the epic label of heroes (VD 30, 272, 308, 313; Righteous 75)72 and their paraphernalia of valour,73 might,74 reward/booty,75 glory and fame76 and grace.77 In practice, some passages are a combination of Homeric half-lines.78

Some of the borrowings are unexpected. The use of Greek names for the underworld had precedents in the Septuagint,79 but what about the use of ‘Hephaestus’ as a metonym for the fire80 in Abraham 23, or the references to destiny (μοῖρα) in Righteous 52, 81? Is Christ recognisable as ἀθά[νατ]ος μῦθος (Sufferers 4),81 when he is usually known as the λόγος after the initial hymn in the Gospel of John? Nonnus must have thought that the answer to the latter question was no, and in his Paraphrase of the Gospel of John, he regularly uses the unepic word λόγος for the Incarnated word (e.g., P. 1.1b ἐν ἀρρήτῳ λόγος ἀρχῇ for Jo. 1:1 ἐν ἀρχῇ ὁ λόγος),82 whereas λόγος never occurs in the Dionysiaca. Similarly, μοῖρα and Hephaestus do not appear in the Paraphrase.

Additionally, the connection to Classical epics is discussed in a number of programmatic passages in the VD83 and Righteous. Let us start with the Homeric connection in the VD

VD 1–3 Ἦ μάλα μοι τῷ ἀλιτρῷ ἀπ’ οὐρανόθ[εν θε]ὸς ἁγνὸς

Χρηστόν, ἄγαλμα ἑοῖο, δῖον φάος ὤπ[ασε κόσ]μῳ,

ἵμερον ἐν στήθεσσι διδοὺς χαρίεσσα[ν ἐπ’ οἴ]μην.

Surely, it is for me, this sinner, that from heaven the pure God

has sent Christ, his own image, to the world as a bright light,

while putting in my heart a desire for graceful song.

Line 3 is composed with Homer in mind. The Homeric poems describe song as ἱμερόεις ‘exciting desire’ or ‘lovely’ (Il. 18.569–71, Od. 1.421 = 18.304 ἱμερόεσσαν ἀοιδὴν, Od. 17.519), the gods put emotions and resolve into the breasts of mortals (e.g., Il. 5.513 ἐν στήθεσσι μένος βάλε, 7.68, 13.494),84 and a minstrel is moved to sing a lay (οἴμη) by the Muses (Od. 8.73–5), just as Dorotheus is moved to sing by God. Similarly, Hesiod begins singing from the Heliconian Muses (Th. 1) and says of them that their song glorifies the venerated race of the gods (43b-4), just as Dorotheus’ song will glorify his God.

Dorotheus then attributes the content and poetic shape of his words to Gabriel, featuring word by word one of the key lines discussing Hesiod’s inspiration by the Muses in the Theogony:

VD 176–7 τοῖα δ’ ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἐμοῖς ποτικάμβαλες αὐδ[ὴν]

θέσπιν, ἵνα κλείοιμι τά τ’ ἐσσόμενα π[ρ]ό τ’ ἐόντα̣.

“Such were the things that you have laid into my heart as subject

of divine song, that I may celebrate all that has been and will come”.

Hes. Th. 31b-3 ἐνέπνευσαν δέ μοι αὐδὴν

θέσπιν, ἵνα κλείοιμι τά τ’ ἐσσόμενα πρό τ’ ἐόντα,

καί μ’ ἐκέλονθ’ ὑμνεῖν μακάρων γένος αἰὲν ἐόντων

“And they breathed a divine voice into me, so that I might glorify what will be and what was before, and they commanded me to sing of the race of the blessed ones who always are.”

(Transl. Most 2006)

Dorotheus’ song coalesces with a particular streak of epic, didactic, presenting itself as the Christian equivalent to the foundation text of ‘pagan theology’, the Theogony. At the same time, the differences between the two texts are glaring enough to disavow their superposition.85 Hesiod sings of the past of the world from its very beginning in the Theogony, and his own present is the subject of his Works and Days, where the future features as the disastrous consequences of not heeding his advice. In both poems, Hesiod’s voice introduces an extraneous subject matter, unrelated to his personal experience. On the contrary, in the VD Dorotheus sings of his own present experience of the divine and the past, present and future of the world are actually never mentioned, although the final lines suggest that the VD is only the first of many creations of the singer Dorotheus, all of them dedicated to Christian topics:

339–43 εὐξάμην ὑψίστοιο θεοῦ ἕνεχ’ ἄγγε[λος εἶναι]

πάντων ὧν μ’ ἐφέηκε. καὶ ἐν στή[θεσσιν ἀ]οιδὴ̣ν̣

παντοίην ἐνέηκε παρεστάμενα[ι καὶ ἀείδ]ειν []

ἔργων δικαίων ἠδ’ αὖ Χρηστοῖο ἄνακτος

εἰς ἔτος ἐξ ἔτεος γλυκερώτερον αἰὲν [ἀοιδ]ῷ.

I prayed to be a messenger in the service of God Most High

of all the things that he laid upon me. And in my heart he

has laid songs of various kinds as to keep guard and sing

about the deeds of the righteous and also of Christ the Lord,

year after year ever more delightful for a singer.

The topics of subsequent poems would be 342 ἔργων δικαίων ‘the deeds of the righteous’, perhaps like himself, or like other the figures praised in the subsequent poems of the Codex (Abraham in P.Bodmer 30, the righteous admonished in P.Bodmer 31, Abel in P.Bodmer 33 and 35) and Χρηστοῖο ἄνακτος ‘Christ the lord’ (as in P.Bodmer 32, 34). ἀ]οιδὴ̣ν̣/ παντοίην (340b-341a) could refer to poems of different types, i.e., all genres, or to internal variation, as a synonym of the ubiquitous ποικιλία, aesthetically valued in Late Antiquity (Miguélez-Cavero 2008, pp. 21–22, 129–30, 139–46, 163–69). In particular, the final line reads both as the projection of a poetic career onto which the poet embarks with progressively growing poetic abilities (he keeps producing more seductive, beautiful lines [γλυκερώτερον] as time passes) and to the evergrowing impact of this particular poem on his readers, who by revisiting it will be able to derive more and more benefits from its contents.86 Additionally, VD 343 cites the end of Apollonius Rhodius Argonautica:87

AR 4.1773–5 ἵλατ᾿ ἀριστήων μακάρων γένος· αἵδε δ᾿ ἀοιδαὶ

εἰς ἔτος ἐξ ἔτεος γλυκερώτεραι εἶεν ἀείδειν

ἀνθρώποις…

“Be gracious, you race of blessed heroes, and may these songs year after year be sweeter for men to sing”

As envisaged by the VD, the epic is a living poetic channel of production, reaching back to Homer and Hesiod, its Hellenistic incarnations (Apollonius) and more recent developments. For instance, VD 342b Χρηστοῖο ἄνακτος harks back to the usage of ἄναξ for gods, kings and heroes in the Homeric poems,88 but is also a frequent combination in the poetry by Gregory Nazianzen and Nonnus’ Paraphrase of the Gospel of John.89 A number of times the diction of VD is closer to post-Homeric and contemporary poems than to archaic ones. For instance:

VD 270–2 ἀλλὰ σύ γε πρόφρασσαι ὅ τοι θεὸς ὤπασε δῶρο[ν.]

χάρμα θεῷ τελέοιτο· σὲ γὰρ θεὸς ἔκφηνε τοῖσ[ιν]

κύδιμον ἡρώων καὶ ἀοίδιμον ἐσσομένοισ[ιν.]

But you must proclaim the gift that God has presented to you.

May it prove to be a cause of rejoicing for God: for God has brought you forward to them

as renowned among heroes and sung of for generations to come.

The phrasing for the presentation with a gift in line 270 does not relate to Homeric turns of phrase,90 but rather to Apollonius, Quintus and Nonnus.91 κύδιμος is in epic terms very much a Quintus word (11.358 κύδιμοι ἄνδρες|, 6.143 = 7.325 κύδιμον υἷα, 4.460 = 6.430 = 8.162 = 12.243 κύδιμος ἀνήρ|),92 even if the second half of line 270 is a Homeric cluster (Il. 6.358 ἀοίδιμοι ἐσσομένοισι|). Additionally, both the vocabulary and the appropriation of the Classical authors are done in a Christian manner.

VD 7 ἧμ’ εὖ γρηγορόων, τὰ δ’ ἐφήνατο ἤμα[τ’ ἀεί]δων

“I sit well awake, and singing in the daytime all that has appeared”).

When Dorotheus reflects on his experience, like Hesiod he sings (ἀείδων) about what has happened to him (τὰ δ’ ἐφήνατο). However, γρηγορέω (see LSJ s.v.) ‘to be or become fully awake’, is not a poetic nor Classical term, but recurs in the NT to denote the watchfulness appropriate for the disciples.93 On a programmatic level,

VD 293–6 τ̣[οιάδ’ ἐμοὶ] προσέειπεν ἐμὸς θεὸς οἶος Ἰησοῦς

καί με κ[έλε]εν θυρέῃσι παριστάμεν ὡς τὸ πάρος περ,

295 φ<θ>ογγὴν ἐξανιὼν γεράνων μελιγηρυῆσσαν,

ἐν̣ δὲ βίην ὤ̣πασσε καὶ ἄφθιτον ἦτορ ἔδωκεν.

“Such were the words he spoke to me, my sole God, Jesus

and he ordered me to stand at the gate just like before,

sending forth a sweet sounding voice (like the sound) of cranes,

and he put strength into me and gave me unending valour”.

Here, 295 μελιγηρυῆσσαν points to the equally programmatic model of the Sirens. In the Od. these raise their clear-toned song (12.183b λιγυρὴν δ᾿ ἔντυνον ἀοιδήν) and call on Odysseus to steer his ship to listen to their sweet voices (187 μελίγηρυν ἀπὸ στομάτων ὄπ᾿ ἀκοῦσαι). The Odyssean passage highlights the seductive power of the sung word, capable of distracting sailors to destruction, and requiring being tied to a mast (as Odysseus is) to be resisted. The VD conflates the roles of the singing Sirens and the strong, upright Odysseus resisting them by presenting Dorotheus singing as he stands at the gate, endowed with divine strength and valour.94 The choice of the cranes as the image for Dorotheus’ singing (295 γεράνων) may be an inadequate appropriation of the Homeric simile comparing noisy armies marching to combat with a band of equally shrill cranes (Il. 2.460–73, 3.1–3, 15.691–2),95 or a reference to the different quality of the sound of Christian poetry, more like a trumpeting call to march in line displaying strength and valour, than a simple beautiful song with no spiritual content whatsoever. Hence the final reflection of the poem:

VD 339–40 εὐξάμην ὑψίστοιο θεοῦ ἕνεχ’ ἄγγε[λος εἶναι]

πάντων ὧν μ’ ἐφέηκε

“I prayed to be a messenger in the service of God Most High

of all the things that he laid upon me.”

Although the rest of the poems of this codex are not as programmatically explicit as the VD, this Christian poetic program of continuity with plurisecular and variegated epic poetry can be seen to seep into them, as it is picked up together with the figure of Dorotheus in Righteous:

Righteous 154–6 ἀγλ[α]ῶι δὲ θρόνωι ἱστήκει τηλεθόων

ὑμ[ν]είων πατέρα κλυτὸν λιγυρῆι ἐπ᾿ ἀοιδῆι,

ἀγγ[έλ]οις ἐστιχόων ἵμερα μελπόμενος

“He [Dorotheus] sits on a splendid throne, with a loud voice,

singing a hymn to the renowned Father with a clear song,

taking his place in a row of angels, intoning lovely songs”

λιγυρὴ ἀοιδή (155) is both the song of the Sirens (Od. 12.44 ἀλλά τε Σειρῆνες λιγυρῇ θέλγουσιν ἀοιδῇ, 183 λιγυρὴν δ’ ἔντυνον ἀοιδήν|) and the Hesiodic Muses who pass it on to the poet.96 The Hesiodic Muses sing hymns on their father Zeus,97 just as Dorotheus sings hymns on his Father (155 ὑμ[ν]είων πατέρα κλυτὸν).

The poetic accomplishments of Gregory of Nazianzus, Synesius or Nonnus may give an impression of extensive compositions of poetry as the art of the few, whereas the Codex Visionum is a healthy reminder that authors that have reached us through Medieval manuscript transmission did not exist and work in a cultural vacuum, but rather anyone who had attended school was equipped with the background readings and compositional tools necessary for poetic practice, and many would indeed try a hand at it.98

4.2. Completing the Arch of Salvation: Synthesis of Christian History and Infinite Reading

The poems of the Codex Visionum also situate themselves within the canon of texts on the Christian history of salvation, a continuous narrative that goes back to Genesis and ahead to the Book of Revelation, including post-evangelical times. One community of believers stretches from the beginning of the world, through the present and reaches the end of time. They do so by means of a number of well-known interpretative principles, the first of which is typology. Because God’s modus operandi was thought to be reducible to a number of types or archetypes, effectively events in the Old Testament prefigured or announced elements of the Jesus story.99 This meant that any figure or event inserted in the arch of salvation could be presented as a retake or summary of similar ones. Additionally, the Old Testament is read spiritually so that Jerusalem and Sion are no longer concrete places, but the Christian immaterial fatherland and all cues can be taken to give an outline of the principles of the Christian faith (Christian dogma can be uncovered in any text related to the arch of salvation).

The second principle is that of scrittura infinita:100 it is impossible to exhaust the interpretation of Bible texts as their depth grows with the progression of the reader, to whom polysemy and prophetic intensity are gradually revealed. When late antique poets signal a Bible text as their source of inspiration they can be assumed to seek to comment, complete and uncover new meanings in their basic texts. Typology and scrittura infinita turn the composition of Biblical poetry into an exegetical practice which serves readers of different levels of proficiency. This is particularly visible in the three ‘Biblical’ poems of the Codex, On Abraham, Cain and Abel.

The starting point of P.Bodmer 30 On Abraham (Πρὸς Ἀβραάμ) is the Aqedah or binding of Isaac: in Genesis, God tests Abraham’s loyalty by asking him to sacrifice his only son, Isaac (Gen. 22:1–18) and when He has had the proof He needs, He gives Abraham an animal to put in Isaac’s place. P.Bodmer 30 expands the episode first chronologically with a reference to the creation of the world (Faulkner 2022, pp. 90–91):

1 Ὃς κόσμον συνέζευξε καὶ οὐρανὸν[ ἠδὲ θά]λασσαν

“He who put together the world and the heaven [and the s]ea”

This first line gives the beginning of the poem a psalmic ring as it looks like a repeated psalmic description of God,101 and helps to connect the poems of the Codex, as it can be read as a preliminary reference to Cain, where all ends of the kosmos reject Cain as he tries to flee after killing Abel. Considering that On Abraham is the first poem after the two works on visions (The Shepherd in prose and the VD in verse), this line also has a programmatic quality: a Bible episode, well known in prose to all Christian audiences, is retold highlighting its connections with the broader arch of human history, understood as God’s history of salvation (starting with Creation, proceeding to the figure of Jesus and reaching the recent martyrial narratives and subsequent adaptations of the post-Constantinian Church). As a poetic retelling, On Abraham signals both to the Homeric poems (popular Homeric half-lines are easily identifiable)102 and to the first ‘Christian’ poetry, the Psalms.

The On Abraham deviates from Genesis 22 visibly, but follows well-known traditions, by introducing speeches of acceptance by Abraham, Sarah and Isaac: Sarah and Isaac never express their opinions about the sacrifice in the Aqedah, but Isaac’s willingness is represented in early Jewish sources;103 and the introduction of speeches is done following the rules of the ethopoea or ‘speech in character’ (the character should speak appropriately for their age, gender, origin, etc.).104 Thus, Abraham speaks like an old man (line 7 mentioning his age), and Sarah, like a pious mother, encourages her son to assume martyrdom. The model for Sarah would be the mother of the Maccabean brothers (2 Macc. 7:20–3, 25–9 and 4 Macc.):105 these seven brothers, tempted by Antiochus IV Epiphanes (king of the Seleucid empire 175–164 BC) to break their religious rules in exchange for their lives, were killed upon their refusal to submit. Their connection with the Aqedah episode is explicit in 4 Macc 13:1–12, where the brothers exhort one another to remember Isaac’s piety in accepting his sacrifice. Their mother, who encourages them not to abandon their faith and to sacrifice their lives, became the model for the mothers of martyrs in Christian martyrial literature.106 The Maccabaean family were very popular saints in the fourth century when their relics were venerated in Antioch and homilies (starting with Jo. Chrys. Or. 15) celebrated their mastery over the passions.107 The typological connection of Sarah/Isaac, the Maccabean family and the Christian martyrs is not explicit in the text and would be visible only to readers trained in the mechanics of typological reading, with a command of the Scriptures, and aware of trends in Christian ‘culture’ and cult.

Isaac, like a young man of marriable age, refers to the sacrifice as a wedding:

16–18 νυμ[φί]διον θαλερὸν θάλαμον τεύξασθε τοκῆες,

ξαν[θ]ήν μοι πλοκάμοισι κόμην πλέξασθε πολῖται,

ὄφ[ρ᾿ ἱερ]ὴν τελέσαιμι χάριν μεγαλήτορι θυμῶι

“Parents, prepare for me a luxurious brid[al] chamber!

Citizens, braid my fai[r] hair into locks,

tha[t] I may fulfil a [hol]y task with magnanimity”

The preparation of the bridal chamber and the participation of the town in the singing of songs of encouragement for the groom are both elements recorded in the treatments of the epithalamium and bedtime speech (κατευναστικὸς λόγος) by Menander Rhetor.108 The grooming of the couple before the ceremony is not discussed by Menander, but even if Isaac’s blond hair (Abraham 17 ξαν[θ]ήν… κόμην) recalls Athena pulling Achilles’ in the Iliad (1.197 ξανθῆς δὲ κόμης ἕλε Πηλεΐωνα), its braiding (Abraham 17 πλοκάμοισι… πλέξασθε) would be a feminine preparation (see Aphrodite about to braid her hair in AR 3.46b-47a μέλλε δὲ μακροὺς/πλέξασθαι πλοκάμους), rather than a masculine one. The image suggests Isaac was assuming the role of the (virginal) bride and not of the groom, which is unusual for a masculine character, but has a precedent in the presentation of martyrs as virgins (the feminine παρθένοι) and brides of the Lamb in Revelation 14:1–5 and 9:6–9.109 A late antique reader would easily recognise the wedding preparations as standard, but the connection to Christian martyrs would elude those who could not recall Revelation or interpreted it differently.

The poet explicitly connects Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac and Moses’ crossing of the Red Sea:

20–1 ῥ[οίβδη]σεν δὲ θάλασσα περὶ φλόγα, τὴν ῥὰ Μουσής

σ[χίσε]ι· ᾿Aβραὰμ υἷα ποτιξυναείρετο κῦμα

“Around the flames [rush]ed the sea that Moses

would [split]. Abraham lifted son and wave.”110

Such a connection is unusual:111 we would expect on the one hand a connection between the sacrifice of Isaac and the sacrifice of the Paschal lamb before the departure from Egypt and then a reference to Christ as the Paschal lamb,112 and on the other hand a link between the crossing of the Red Sea and baptism, already suggested in the New Testament.113 The latter was sustained by the practice of administering baptism on Easter eve in a framework recalling the departure from Egypt, and highlighted by the Fathers (sometimes in connection with the salty waters of Marah in Ex. 15:25).114 Abraham 20–21 could be making a connection of the two paradigms eliding the intermediate step or simply making an unusual connection. In either case, this poem concerns itself with the exegesis of a particular passage of Genesis and makes use of typology. In this regard, the poem can (1) introduce a novice reader to the technique (explicit connections such as that of the sacrifice of Isaac and Moses crossing the Red Sea) and (2) suggest further connections to more experienced readers (Isaac’s mother as a prefiguration of the mother of the Maccabean brothers; Isaac as a bride prefiguring the martyr brides of the Book of Revelation). The connection between the two Testaments is furthered by post-Biblical references, closer to the time of the composition of the poem. Thus, Abraham concludes with an address to Abraham, as the father of humanity and, therefore, the father of the martyrs:

29–30 χίλια[τέκνα σ]ε τοῖον ἐπαυγάσαι ἀνθεμόεντα

δωρο[δότη]ν πανάριστον ἐπεμβεβαῶτ᾿ ἐπι’ πύργωι

Thousands of flourishing [children] to make you shine (?),

excellent [giver] of gifts, who has climbed the tower.

Isaac would be the first, followed by the Maccabean brothers, Dorotheus and the Christian martyrs of more recent times. As the father of these descendants, Abraham can be said to have reached the top of the tower (=Church), an image we have seen recurring in the texts of the Codex Visionum.

P.Bodmer 33 “What would Cain say after killing Abel?” follows interpretative and creative principles similar to those visible in On Abraham. In the case of the Cain, Genesis 4:13–14 does in fact include such a speech, as Cain replies after God curses him for killing his brother. In Genesis, Cain foresees a life in punishment, whereas in the poem he considers where to flee: the air, the sea and the land (1–2 πῆι πολέω πῆι φεύξομ᾿ ἄν᾿ ἠέρα πῆι δὲ[ κατ᾿ οἶμους/ ὑγρῆς τε τραφερῆς τε ἐμὸν[ ].νο.[ ]να.[),115 all reject him (3–16) because the Lord punishes the evildoer who has sinned (17 ὅς τε κακορρέκτ[ην ἀ]ποτίνυται, ὅς κεν ἁμάρτηι).116 In the end, the Bodmer Cain sees only one way out: to go to Tartarus with those who are like him (18–19 ἤδη δ᾿ οὔτιν᾿ ἐγὼ[ προτι]όσσομαι ἄμμ[ι κ]έλευθον·/ Τάρταρα λοιπὸν ἵκ[εσ]θε κακορραφίη[ς ] ἀκόρητοι).117 The phrasing again reflects popular Homeric turns,118 but the construction of the speech could have been inspired by Ps. 139(138):7–12,119 on the impossibility of fleeing from an omniscient God who can follow mortals to the heavens, the underworld, the ends of the sea, and even the darkness of the night, although not certainly not the phrasing. The notion was anticipated by references to God’s capacity to see to the ends of the earth in VD.120

Both in the OT (Wisdom 10:3–4) and in the NT (Hebr. 11:4, 1Jo 3:10–15, Jude 11) Cain is the prototype of evildoers and killers. Although there is no explicit reference to the type in the form of a mention of another Biblical miscreant, the poem refers to the abstract figure of the evildoer and sinner (17 ὅς τε κακορρέκτ[ην ἀ]ποτίνυται, ὅς κεν ἁμάρτηι) with a phrasing that will be picked up in Abel to describe the punishment of evildoers,121 and concludes with a plural call to evildoers, all of whom share their lack of satiety for evil and the (Christian) destiny in the Tartarus (19 Τάρταρα λοιπὸν ἵκ[εσ]θε κακορραφίη[ς ] ἀκόρητοι), in accordance with the teaching on the eternal punishment of evildoers (Matthew 25:41–6). The context of the Cain would also encourage a typological reading as most texts of the Codex Visionum elaborate on the figure of the suffering, dikaios, leaving the Cain as the sole named instance of the perpetrator or persecutor.122

Cain is effectively written in a diptych with P.Bodmer 35 What would Abel say after being killed by Cain? Like the Bodmer Cain, the Bodmer Abel appropriates a psalmic passage, effectively paraphrasing Ps. 102 (101) on the sufferings of the just man. Apollinaris’ Metaphrasis Psalmorum includes a poetic rendition of the same Psalm, but points of contact between the two texts are virtually non-existent and differences in emphasis are relevant as to the different aims and functions of the two compositions: where the psalmic paraphrase simply creates an epic version of the text of the Septuaginta, the Bodmer poem makes a strong Christian typological reading so as to complete the whole arch of salvation in the new Abel speech.123 To start with

Ps. 101:1 Εἰσάκουσον, κύριε, τῆς προσευχῆς μου (“Hear my prayer, O Lord”)

Met. ps. 1 Εὐχῆς ἡμετέρης ἐπικέκλυθι, φέρτατε ποιμήν (“Hear my prayer, powerful lord”)

Abel 1 Κέκλυ[θί μοι] πάσχοντι πάτερ θεὲ δημιοεργέ (“Listen [to me] in my suffering, God father and creator”)

The Met. ps. and Abel only share the chosen verb. The rendition of the Met. is nearly literal, with a slight elaboration for κύριε to complete the final two feet of the hexameter, similar to the popular Homeric formula ποιμένα λαῶν (Il. 1.263).124 Abel elaborates and contraposes the entities of the speaker and the recipient of the prayer. The speaker is presented as a suffering subject (πάσχοντι) with a verb that in a Christian context often designates the sufferings of the martyrs.125 Abel thus becoming the first martyr and the speaker of the Psalm is another in a long list reaching out to the subjects and recipients of the Codex Visionum. The notion of a community of sufferers and martyrs is also highlighted by the fact that lines 14–15, describing a body wasting away, are borrowed from VD 151–2, where they describe Dorotheus’ body wasting away in punishment.

Abel is contraposed to the recipient of the prayer, not simply God, but the father (πάτερ—of humanity, of Abel, of the psalmist, of Christ, of the historical martyrs—who are said to demand retribution for their suffering in a departure from the psalmic text,126 of the anonymous dikaioi mentioned in the codex) and the maker of the universe (δημιοεργέ).127

Then in the second section of the Psalm (versets 12–22), the psalmist calls the Lord to have pity on Sion and Jerusalem in the concrete context of the exile: he asks to return to Jerusalem whose stones people miss (14), to see the reconstruction of the city (16), listening to those who are destitute (17) and imprisoned (20) in exile, so that they may praise again the Lord in Sion and Jerusalem (21), where peoples and kingdoms gather to serve him (22). In the Bodmer poem, there are no references to the physical essence and reconstruction of Jerusalem, which becomes a spiritual place128 to which the servants of the Lord tend (36–7 ο]ὕνεκ᾿ ἄρ᾿ Ἱροσόλυμα τεὴ[ν πο]θέου[σι]ν ἅπαντ[ες/ ἴφ]θιμοι θεράπον[τ]ες ἐελδόμενο[ι χ]νόον αὐτ[ῆ]ς),129 the saviour of the peoples (41 λαοσσόον Ἱροσολύμα). Now the Lord listens not to those who suffer in exile, but to the poor and the sinners, and He does not hold a grudge against anybody but saves those he takes pity on (43–4 ἔκλυε[ν] ἀμφὶ πενιχροῖς ἀλειτάων ἐπακούσας/ καὶ ῥ᾿ ο[ὔ]τιν᾿ ἐμέγηρε σάωσε δὲ τοὺς ἐλεήσας). On the contrary, the vague psalmic reference to a written record of the Lord’s grace to be remembered by future generations130 becomes a very concrete summary of some tenets of the Christian faith:

Abel 45–51 ἔσ[φερε ῥ]ήματα πάντα γραφαῖς ἁγίαις γενετήρων

ἧ π[ερι]εσσόμενοι μέγαν ἄφθιτον αἰνήσουσιν

ὅτ[τι μὲν] ἐξεκάλυψεν ἀπ᾿ οὐρανοῖο φόωσδε

σ[ωτῆρ᾿ ὃ]ν προέηκεν ἐν ἀνθρώποισιν ἔσεσθαι

οὕνε]κεν αὐτὸς ἄναξ ἐξ οὐρανοῦ ἀμφ᾿ ἐπὶ γαῖαν

ἠΐεν] ὥστε φράσαιτο ἰδὼν στοναχήν τε πενιχρῶν,

κα[ὶ] μογέοντ[α]ς ἅπαντας Ἅδην131 σαοῖ ἠδ᾿ ἐλεαίροι

In[sert] all the words in the sacred writings of the fathers,

so that the survivors praise the great, imperishable one,

who, from the heaven, revealed in the light

a s[aviour] he sent to remain amongst men;

for this the lord himself [came] from heaven to the earth

to contemplate the wailing of the poor and show them the way

and save and take pity on all those who suffer in Hades.

The prediction of the Incarnation (God the Father sending a saviour who will remain on earth) ascribed to the psalmist follows the model of the Messianic prophecies of Isaiah, some of which were explicitly considered fulfilled in the Gospels.132 Along similar lines, the proem of the Metaphrasis Psalmorum (lines 83–104) lists all the important elements of the Christian faith133 and the Paraphrase of the Gospel of John begins like the Gospel of John, with the Hymn of the Logos, in which Nonnus inserts references to the Creed.134

In the poems of the Codex Visionum, the Incarnation is regularly referred to as the Father sending the Son and the Son being the image of the Father, and Christ is presented as light (of the world and the underworld).135 I.e., as a summary from New Testament passages, specifically from the Pauline letters,136 rather than a summary of any sort of Creed. This may be a sign that the poems were written before doctrinal debates and the definition of the right faith became central to the life of the Church (the council of Nicaea in 325 was a notable turning point),137 or that the focus of the poet(s) and the scribes copying these texts was not a doctrinal definition. Perhaps their aim was not to describe God accurately, but to celebrate the divine both in the form of (shorter) prayers138 or hymns (Abraham, Cain and Abel)139 and of (longer) reflections (VD, Righteous),140 which may serve the purpose of the glorification of the saints.141 This would explain their use of basic epic words to define and describe the divine: God is pure/holy (ἁγνός/ἅγιος),142 the highest (ὕψιστος),143 eternal (ἀιώνιος),144 immortal,145 imperishable (ἄφθιτος)146 and famous (κλυτός).147

4.3. Reflection of Contemporary (Religious) Realities

Christian poetry exists as well to relate to and comment on the reality in which it is produced.148 I propose a broad arch of cultural and religious interrogation, on metanoia (a combination of repentance, conversion and search for penitence), in connection with baptism149 and the Final Judgement, as God rewards obedience150 and condemns the one who does not repent (Righteous 5–55a, 76–103a; Cain).

Metanoia is a key term in early Christian culture, one that undergoes a visible chronological development from occurrences in the New Testament to its late antique use in monastic environments. In the Gospels, John the Baptist calls for repentance from sins twinned with baptism,151 as do some passages from Acts.152 Metanoia after baptism is also contemplated in the early Church:153 in Acts 8:20 Simon the magician, who has been baptised, sees the disciples receiving the Holy Spirit by the imposition of the hands of Peter and John and offers them money to get that gift; Peter replies

Acts 8:21 “You have no part or share in this, for your heart is not right before God. 22 Repent [μετανόησον] therefore of this wickedness of yours and pray to the Lord that, if possible, the intent of your heart may be forgiven you”.

Post-baptismal metanoia and forgiveness are, therefore, possible, though not automatic.154 However, some passages in the Pauline letters are inconclusive (they advise the community to beware of sin, but do not mention lack of forgiveness),155 or explicitly order that the sinner is expelled from the community because their only possible salvation is on the Second Coming of Christ (1Cor. 5:3). The Letter to the Hebrews denies the possibility of restoration after baptism and suggests that the sinner will be punished in the Final Judgement.156 Effectively, the connection between metanoia (defined as the repentance from sins and a complete reset of the mind and life of the believer on becoming a Christian) and baptism (a one-time event marking the integration of the catechumen in the Church, one with Christ who gave his life on the cross for his sins) implied that metanoia could only happen once: just as only one baptism was possible, only one metanoia was possible.157 In the first centuries this was at the very least problematic: there was no agreement as to whether the reintegration of serious sinners to the community was possible, and in the NT texts in which it was allowed there was no specific method or channel through which it could be effected.

Historically, one of the options was to allow a second metanoia without baptism (Lat. paenitentia secunda), but since the model for it was (one-off) baptism, it also had to be one-off: pardon would be given on the condition that the sinner was only allowed to use the mechanism once. For instance, Clement of Alexandria (ca. 150–ca. 215) insisted that the only possible metanoia is that which is the foundation of faith and concurrent with baptism, and attributes the second (and final) chance of repentance to God’s grace.158 At the same time, Clement allows that not sinning after baptism is difficult and seems to imagine the baptised in a process towards sin-lessness in which the individual is helped along by the community and prayer,159 which would allow for (minor) setbacks.

Metanoia was thus a concept fraught with tension: on the one hand, a depreciation or incompleteness of (baptismal) metanoia would entail an automatic debasement of baptism itself, which was to be avoided at all costs; on the other hand, Christian communities required a practical method of identifying sin (both defining it in general terms and classifying it in degrees of gravity) and re-integrating those who repented into communion. Flexible thinkers avoided the fracture by simultaneously reinforcing baptismal metanoia and accommodating post-baptismal (minor) sinning: thus, Clement referred to second metanoia as a by-product of God’s mercy and mentioned the importance of personal and community proactivity to avoid sinning. Other authors prove the instability of the concept. For instance, Tertullian (ca. 155–ca. 220) in his De paenitentia notes that a Christian in theory should not sin anymore (6.17) and the paenitentia secunda is a concession of God’s grace to human weakness (5.1), but in his more strict, Montanist period published De pudicitia, where he attacked the penitential discipline of the Church in Africa, and in particular an edict of Pope Callistus forgiving sins of adultery and fornication to penitents.160

Well into the fourth century, Ambrose of Milan (De Paenitentia II.2.6–12) explained that Paul in Hebrews 6:4 rejected the possibility of a second baptism, not of repentance; the baptised must give up the graver faults of their old lives (II.3 analyses the case of the prodigal son who relents) and do penance for lighter ones in continuous strife against sin (II.10.95). In this case, the reinforcement of metanoia is so extreme that it seems to imply something similar to a retreat from the world, renouncing civic life (earthly honours), the pleasures of the table (wine) and married life. This was not usually the case.161 The combination of baptismal metanoia and post-baptismal repentance is explained in the final paragraph through the metaphor of the vestment (II.11.98): catechumens would leave their old dress before the liturgy of baptism to don a new one symbolising their new identity, physically marking the break with their previous life of sin. Ambrose assumes that the new dress, despite metanoia and baptism, cannot possibly be maintained in pristine condition, and should be looked after with minor repairs. It is clearly not a case of leaving baptism for the last minute to ensure a definitive metanoia.

Together with this insoluble connection of metanoia with baptism,162 we find that in monastic settings metanoia, translated as a combination of repentance and penance, becomes the name and tool of the lifelong process by which the baptised aims to become the best version of him- or herself.163 Basil of Caesarea (330–379) wrote at length about ascetic practices in his homilies and in other writings often labelled as ‘monastic’ and seems to recommend a disciplined way of life and very high moral and spiritual ideals and goals to a broad audience, not to a narrow group of enthusiasts.164 One of the pillars of Basil’s advice was to focus on repentance (Mor. I.1).165 He clearly stated that sin was to be judged and measured by repentance (Ep. 217.74, 84) and correction directed to help a change of heart within the sinner (Ep. 112.3, 260). A sign of regret, a little goodness in one’s life was enough to attract God’s mercy (Hom. 350.3, 356.5, 357.3),166 but something must be done about it because all transgressions are displeasing to God (On. Judg. 4, 81).

In a different context, the first of the letters of Antony “document the mental world of an Egyptian monk in the first decades of the fourth century” (Rubenson 1995, pp. 11–12), and can be discussed as an introduction to the life of those who retreat from the world.167 Antony discusses three types of souls whom God has assembled by his own Word (i.e., called to an ascetic or angelic life). For the latter he says:

Letter I.15 “the third kind we find in those whose hearts are hard from the beginning and who persist in the works of sin. God the merciful sends afflictions and chastisement upon them, [16] until through their afflictions they are made aware and repent and return. And if they repent with all their heart they enter into the calling and attain the virtues”

Divine (physical and psychological) punishment and conversion are necessary to seek to abandon civic life. Antony is not referring to the metanoia linked to baptism, but to a (subsequent) conversion to a particular form of life, not expected of all the baptised. This ascetic call is but the beginning of a long way of return to their first being in the creator, in which many elements are necessary to succeed: the Spirit teaches the mind about repentance, deprivation of food and sleep purify the body, the study of the Scripture and prayer purify the soul, renunciation of the world and of human things improve matters and God, in his mercy, helps.168 Metanoia (here a process of purification inextricably linked to the lifelong battle against sin) became a trademark of the ascetic life,169 and was usually accompanied by fasting, praying and reflection on sin. This type of repentance was expressed outwardly through prostration, and it was so ingrained in the ascetic practice that βάλλειν μετάνοιαν is usually translated as ‘to make the gesture of prostration’, and someone who made the gesture of prostration would be identified as a monk.170

This overview can only give a broad impression of the complexities and ramifications of metanoia in the fourth century: there was a strong connection to baptism, which meant that pre-baptismal metanoia was expected to be sincere and definitive; a second metanoia would have been accepted by most for application for grave sins, but only once; the pairing of metanoia and baptism is also linked to the Final Judgement (those who fail to convert and live up to their baptismal creed condemn themselves); post-baptismal repentance and reparation would have existed in different forms, none of them systematic or agreed by all; ascetic metanoia was on the rise, sometimes as a call to all the baptised, some other times a particular call differentiated from baptism.

The tone of the discussion on metanoia in the Codex Visionum is set by the first text copied, The Shepherd of Hermas, a visionary text laden with metaphors. In the second vision, Hermas is allowed to read a book given to him by the Church, personified as an old lady, where he learns that there is a limit to repentance for those who are baptised, whereas the unbaptised can repent until the final day.171 In the third Vision, Hermas is allowed to see a great tower being built by angels with square stones so perfect that it seems to be built in one piece. The Lady Church reveals (Vis. III.2.4–7.15) that the tower is herself, built upon baptismal waters, and the perfect stones, those who walked after the holiness of God and exercised their office in purity and sanctity (apostles, bishops, teachers, deacons) and those who suffered for the name of the Lord (martyrs). The stones lying around the tower are the baptised with promising faith in whom wickedness has been found and are placed there in wait, to see if they repent (second metanoia). A good number of imperfect stones have been discarded and thrown far away as the representation of sinners who cannot possibly repent or for whom the pull of the world is too strong.

The intent of this allegory is not (only) descriptive (the Church as immaculately pure), but mostly paraenetic: it seeks to encourage the middle group, those who could possibly take the opportunity of the second metanoia—those who need to choose at some point between faith and perdition.172 In the final explanation, the Lady Church further elaborates that second metanoia will be accompanied by (physical) torments, which are both a form of punishment for sins and enforced to help sinners to physically understand what they have done (Vis. III.7.5).

Although a visionary text, The Shepherd is connected to the reality in which it was composed and bears the marks of its process of composition.173 The first four books seem to have been composed first and circulated independently. Mandata I-XII and Similitudines I-VIII, which sought to explain and support the first section, were added later. In the third, final phase the text was completed with Similitudines IX-X and Visio V. Simil. IX, added in the third phase and not copied in the Codex Visionum, included an actualisation of the allegory of the tower which highlights how the Christian mindset had evolved between the first and third phases of composition: the figure explaining the allegory is now the angel of repentance, dressed as a shepherd (Simil. IX.33.1 “ego pastor nuntius paenitentiae”); whereas in the third Vision, there was no reference to the persons of the Trinity, Comparison IX begins with a reference to the Holy Spirit (Parable IX.1.1–2) and the tower has a newly hewed out gate as the image of the Son of God (IX.2.2, IX.12.1–3—after John 14:6); the tower is now in Arcadia (IX.1.4), surrounded by twelve hills (an allegory of the twelve tribes of Israel, now the different types of Christians—IX.1.4–10, IX.17.1–27.6), which suggests that the Gospel has now reached all nations.174

The baptismal references are much stronger in the first allegory, where the tower literally grows in the waters of baptism. These waters are not mentioned in the second allegory, where baptism is referred to in a more immaterial manner in the association of the entrance into the kingdom of God and the name of the Son of God, whose name the believer receives and bears.175 Admittedly, the second allegory was not copied in the Codex Visionum and there is no way of knowing whether it ever was part of the library or whether anyone of those composing the poems and copying them was aware of its existence. In any case, it is indicative of an interest in making explicit the presence of the Trinity in the life of the believer and the emphasis on baptism not only as the moment of cleansing but as the permanent change of identity expressed in the new name which the baptised chose when they make themselves one with Christ in baptism, not prioritary in the context of the first allegory. Both the first and the second allegory are helpful to understand the metanoia in the poems of the codex.

In the Visio Dorothei, Dorotheus, who is presumably a Christian (although no reference is made to his baptism or religious habits)176 dreams that he is sent to invigilate the gates of God’s palace, but he does not comply with his duties and lies to cover his wrong-doing (16–95, 106–25). In an aside from the dream he prays to God for mercy as he remembers his misbehaviour (96–105). Following God’s orders he is severely punished with lashes and left covered in blood in his previous place by the gates (126–68). The punishment is not enough to make up for his faults: God tells Christ and archangel Gabriel (no reference is made in the poem to the Holy Spirit) to demote Dorotheus from his position, as he is not fit for service (178–87). Christ, however, speaks in his favour:

VD 190–5 ‘οὔτι, πάτερ, τόδ’ ἔοικεν ἐν ἀγκ[…]…[…]λ̣ο̣ι̣σι

πάντες ἀλειταίνουσιν ἀτασ[θαλί]ῃσι κ̣ακῇσ̣ι̣ν,

ἀλλ’ ἔα ἐν μεγάρῳ, δοκέει δέ [μοι] ε̣ἶναι ἄρισ̣τ̣ο̣ς.’

Γαβριὴλ δ’ ἄρ’ ἔπειτ’ ἐπαμεί[βε]το· ‘α……ς

ἀσχαλόων ἀλίτητα̣ι̣ τ̣α̣…[…]. κύνες ἤδ’ οἰων[οὶ]

195 ἔγκατά τε σάρκας τε καὶ ὀστέα δαρδάπτοι̣[εν.’]

“‘No, Father, this does not seem fit…

all are sinners in their wicked presumptuousness,

but let him stay in the palace, for he seems to me to be the best.’

And Gabriel then aded in response: ‘…

if to his grief he will be a sinner (again?), may dogs and birds of prey

then gnaw at his entrils, his flesh and his bones’.”

This one-off pardon by God’s grace, on the condition that he does not sin again, is clearly a second metanoia, which Clement and Ambrose amongst others defined as the product of God’s mercy. In this context, the attacks of dogs and vultures, the Homeric (feared) destiny of dead heroes, are the epic equivalent of the torments of hell, after the Final Judgement. This should not be disregarded as a simple epic adornment, as the fortified version of Dorotheus will be described as a hero. We can see here a categorisation of the believers similar to that of the first allegory of the tower in The Shepherd: there are those who by baptism are turned into heroes, but sin and fail to realise their potential; of this group, some will be lost forever (deserving the dogs and birds of prey), but others will repent (second metanoia) and correct their defects for good. Torments as a means of punishment and help for the second metanoia are mentioned in The Shepherd (Vis. III.7.5–6) and Antony’s first letter (I.15–16).

As Dorotheus is standing by the gates covered in blood, Gabriel offers him water for cleansing the blood of the lashes and commands him to pour the contents of the vessel over his head:

208–14a καὶ [τότ’] ἐμ’ ἐκκαλέσας προσεφώνεε· ‘τῆ δὲ, λοετρὰ

χε[ρσὶ]ν ἑλὼν ἐπίχευαι’. ἐπεσσυμένως δ’ ἀπένιπτον

210 [χεῖράς] τ̣’ ἠδὲ πόδας καὶ ῥ’ ἤϋσεν ἀμφ’ ἐμὲ δεινόν·

[‘μηδ’ οὕτ]ως ἐπίνιζε· κατὰ κρᾶτα ὦν κατάχευαι

[εἰς ὅ κε] φοίνιον αἷμα καταπλυνέῃς ἀπομάσσων.’

[αὐτὰρ ἐγ]ὼ χείρεσσιν ἑλὼν κρητῆρα φαεινὸν

[κἀκχεῦ]ον κεφαλῆς…

“And then he called me out and spoke: ‘There, take this water for bathing

in your hands and pour it over you’. And quickly I washed

210 my hands and my feet, and loudly he shouted round me:

‘Don’t wash yourself off like this; pour the water over your head

till you have washed and cleaned off the dark blood’.

And I took the splendid bowl in my hands

and poured it out over my head”.

The blood Dorotheus is covered in is the visible sign of his previous sin. The command to wash it off is proof that his second metanoia has been accepted by God and he can now appear clean from sin (as the baptised when they don a new clean dress) before his community. Gabriel’s anger and emphasis on a full wash are derived from the fact that not fully washing the stains of sin away would mean that the second metanoia is incomplete. A good parallel for this stage is AP GN, N.190: a brother embattled by porneia tries to marry the daughter of a pagan priest; the pagan priest sees a dove leaving his mouth and realises that he has been touched by God’s presence and rejects him; the brother then repents and fasts under the direction of an elder who prays for him without ceasing; they know that God has accepted his repentance when the dove returns to him and enters his mouth. The restoration to the pre-sinning condition/appearance proves that the metanoia has been accepted.

Upon the completion of penance and second metanoia Gabriel makes a further offer:

214b-20 ὁ δ’ ἐμὲ φθάμενος φάτο μῦθον·

215 [‘εὐδρ]α̣νί̣η[ν] χαρίεσσαν ἐέλδεαι ἀμφελέεσθαι

[τ]ά̣ξιν <θ’> ἡ̣ρ̣ώ̣ων τῶν ῥ’ ἑσταότων πρὸ δόμοιο;’

[‘ἦ] τοι ἐγὼ πατέρα κλυτόν, ἢ τεά, Γαβριήλ, ἐαλά’.

[ὃ]ς δ’ ἄρ̣α [μ]ειδιόων προσεφώνεεν· ‘ἦ μ<άλ’> ἄμαργος

[ὄ]φρα̣ [μοι ἕ]σποιτο πᾶσιν ἐφ’ ἥμασι ποιμανέων με

220 [].[   ]σ̣δ̣[.]τοι οἴῳ ἐφέψεται ἐς πατέρ’ ὀμφῆς

“And before I could speak he said:

‘Do you desire to take upon you the graceful strength

and the rank of the heroes that are standing before the palace?’

‘Yes I do, by the renowned Father, or by your deliverance (?), Gabriel.’

And smiling at me he spoke: ‘Surely, very eager is he,

that he may follow me, herding me all days

…with (his heart?) alone he will listen to the Father of the Word”

Gabriel seems to make a specific call to follow (219a [ὄ]φρα̣ [μοι ἕ]σποιτο) him and therefore, God (220 [‘ἦ] τοι ἐγὼ πατέρα κλυτόν, ἢ τεά, Γαβριήλ, ἐαλά’). This task similar to being a shepherd (219 ποιμανέων),177 but also to invigilating the gates of God’s palace (216b [τ]ά̣ξιν <θ’> ἡ̣ρ̣ώ̣ων τῶν ῥ’ ἑσταότων πρὸ δόμοιο). The call to follow Christ goes along traditional lines: it would be a retake of the Jesus’ calls to the disciples in the Gospels to follow him and in Jo 21:16 calling Peter to be a shepherd for his sheep.178 This call to leadership in the Church, but also to obedience to God (220b ἐφέψεται ἐς πατέρ’ ὀμφῆς). The palace guards could be an image for the martyrs as the guardians of faith and the Church, compared to heroes because of their physical resistance to torture,179 and to a battalion in line of battle (216 [τ]ά̣ξιν) because of their number and defence task. Lines 215–16 imply that their strength is God-given for the fulfilment of their particular task.180 A connection with martyrdom is, however, not necessary, as a metaphorical reading would be supported by a comparison with Antony’s Letter I. Here the third type of those called to live an ascetic life is that of those who are broken down by torments and upon experiencing (second) metanoia hear God’s particular call for them. God then supports and accompanies them so that they fulfil their chosen (ascetic) path. Following this interpretation, Dorotheus’ punishment would be a metaphor for the suffering experienced by the sinner who realises his error, repents and is truly sorry for the pain and offence he has caused himself and others, including God.

Gabriel then tells Dorotheus to “chose a man [as your guide]” (222 [ἡγεμόν’ οὖν] τ̣ι̣[ν]α φῶτα λελέξεο), suggesting John, Peter, Moses or Solomon (223–4). Dorotheus’ choice is different:

225–32 αὐτὰ[ρ] ἐγὼν [ὡς] τὸ πρὶν ἐνὶ χθονίοισιν ἔθ’ ε<ἷ>λον,

ἐκπ[άγλως δ’] ἀπέειπον, ὅπερ θέλον, Ἀνδρέας εἶναι.

Ἀνδ[ρέαν οὖν μ’ ὀνό]μηναν· ἐπεύξατο δ’ αἶψα {δ} Ἰησοῦς

ὑψί̣[στῳ μακάρ]ω̣ν πατέρι κλυτῷ εἵνεκ’ ἐμεῖο,

ὡς τ̣ό̣[τ’ ἐμοὶ πίστι]ν̣ τε καὶ ἀνδρείαν ἐγγυαλίξῃ.

230 καὶ ῥ’ ἐπ’ ἀτα[ρβέ’ ἐ]μ̣οῖο ἐπωνυμίην, ἐλεήσας,

χεῦεν̣ ἑλὼν [βα]θ̣άλης ὕδωρ ἄμβροτον ὑψίστοιο.

βαπτι̣σθέντα δ̣[’ ἅ]παντα πέπαλτό μοι ὑψόσε γυῖα,

“But I made the choice as before when still among the people on earth,

- but then I had vehemently disavowed—what I wanted: to be Andrew.

So they called me Andrew, and forthwith Jesus prayed

on my behalf to the Most High, the renowned Father of the blessed ones,

that he might now confer upon me faith and courage.

And to give me my fearless name in his mercy

he took the divine water of the Most High from a well and poured it out.

When my limbs were baptized they all leapt up high”

After the (second) metanoia and the special call, comes a narrative of a (second) baptismal rite including the choice of a new name (226, 227 Ἀνδρέας, with a pun with 229 ἀνδρεία, masculine courage) and pouring of holy water (231 ὕδωρ ἄμβροτον). Dorotheus explicitly says that his limbs were baptised (232 βαπτι̣σθέντα… γυῖα). The promised strength takes the shape of a ‘leaping’ of his limbs (232 πέπαλτό) and is recognised by others who now see him as a towering figure (233–42).181

This second baptism is puzzling. Either we consider it a real baptism, and, therefore, identify this as a heretic text, or consider this as an allegory or metaphor. The latter seems more likely because the VD is a revelation text,182 and because the only known cases of a second baptism occur in the Donatist schism at the beginning of the 4th c. in North Africa, when Donatus’ followers reject those who during the persecutions made sacrifices or handed over sacred books and vestments and in some cases (esp. priests) re-baptise those who join them.183 But what type of image is this? Baptism is a metaphor in the NT too: John the Baptist says that his baptism with water as a sign of metanoia is unlike the future baptism of the Messiah, a baptism in Spirit and in fire, linked to the Final Judgement, described with an agricultural allegory as the separation of the wheat for the granary and the chaff for the fire.184 Jesus himself talks in the Gospel of Luke of a baptism of fire185 and there are frequent references to the Holy Spirit in the institution of baptism and early Church narratives.186 The most complicated rendering is that of Mark 10:38–9, also with a violent eschatological collection.

Origen (ca. 184–ca. 243)187 describes the sacrament of baptism follows along the practical lines of other authors, including three elements (Hom. in Leviticum VI 3 [GLS 29], 360.19–361.1): putting aside one’s sinful life, washing away sins and a new life in the spirit. This new life should be definitive and last until death, as what God has purified should not be defiled,188 but he complains that few of the baptised can maintain purity to the end of their lives.189 Together with this practical approach, Origen maintains a metaphorical one, for instance, in his Commentary on the Gospel of John (VI, § 222–4) (Transl. Heine 1989): the baptisms of water, fire and blood of the NT are different images of the same baptism, just as there are different images describing Christ as water, wine or blood. In a further spiritual elaboration, baptism incorporates the sacrifice of one’s life, as in Lk 3:16:190 post-baptismal martyrdom becomes the only perfect equivalent of baptism, the only possible route for the complete remission of sins after baptism,191 and the baptism of fire and martyrdom is to be had in mind by all the baptised, including those living in the secular world with their families and civic duties.192 Origen (Hom. Levit. II.4.4–5) also accounts for seven forms of remissions of sins for Christians: baptism for the remission of sins (Mk 1:4), the suffering of martyrdom, through alms (Lk 11:41), forgiving the sins of our brothers (Mt 6:12, 14–15), by making a sinner convert from their error (James 5:20), by an abundance of love (Lk 7:47, 1 Peter 4:8), and the seventh one “through penance [Hom. Levit. II.4.5 per poenitentiam remissio peccatorum]”,

Hom. Levit. II.4.5 “although admittedly it is difficult and toilsome [licet dura et laboriosa], when the sinnner washes ‘his couch in tears’ [Ps 6:7] and his ‘tears’ become his ‘bread day and night’ [Ps 41:4], when he is not ashamed to make known his sin to the priest of the Lord and to seek a cure [medicinam]”.

[Transl. (Barkley 1990)]

There is admittedly a long way from the baptism in the Gospel to Origen’s seven remissions of sins. Origen operates with a chain of equivalences to progress from literal figurative and then to spiritual meaning:193 (1) real baptism is conducted with water, (2) there is actually one baptism of water, fire, Spirit and martyrdom in the Gospel; (3) martyrdom is in terms of remission of sins equivalent to baptism; (4) the Gospels allude to a number of routes for the remission of sins, including baptism, martyrdom and difficult and toilsome penance.

The writer of the VD seems to operate with a similar chain of equivalences, albeit most of them are implicit, and the logical trail jumps from penance to baptism without mention of the intermediate steps. Dorotheus experiences metanoia accompanied by the “difficult and toilsome” penance of flogging and standing by the gates of God’s palace severely injured and in extreme pain. This would be equivalent to baptism, in that it entails a complete remission of sins, but, as in Antony’s Letter I, is the basis for a particular call to be at the service of the Lord. The positive answer to this second call entails the change of his name, a new identity and a renewed dependence on God’s mercy to succeed under the new strains of the service. When Gregory of Nazianzus mentioned in In suos versus 34–7 controlling his natural prolixity when writing poetry, it is unlikely that he thought of missing intermediate steps in his argument, but this is one of the reasons why poetry is more restrained by prose: the Visio Dorothei collapses in a few lines a complex argument similar to that we see sprawling along several of Origen’s treatises.

In this context, it is easier to understand On the Righteous (Πρὸς δικαίους, P.Bodmer 31). The poem begins with a four-line introduction:

Righteous 1–4 Ὃν φ[ίλε]ε[ν] θεὸς οἷον ἀφήρπασε καὶ ῥ᾿ ἐκόμισσε

νῆ[σον] ἐς ὠγυγίην εἵνεκα μαρτυρίης,

ἱερὸν ἐς] πα[ρά]δεισον ἄγων Χρηστοῖο ἐφετμέων

ὧ ἕ[νε]κεν [θν]ῆσκεν πλήρης ἐν σοφίηι.

“God has snatched away the one he loves and taken him

to the is[land] of Ogygia as a reward for his martyrdom.

He takes him to the [holy] paradise at Jesus’ behest,

for the sake of whom he died filled with wisdom”.

The loved one, none other than Dorotheus as we learn at the end of the poem (157–62), has experienced full metanoia accompanied by suffering. μαρτυρίης (2) could refer either to physical martyrdom or to one of its equivalents, in this case probably the torments experienced by Dorotheus in his Vision. Righteous then focuses on the life of man as the battleground for the temptations of the devil, who settles on earth, craving for domination over men (lines 5–41),194 and then the action of the immortal God as he sits in heaven and passes judgement, sending the good one to paradise and handing the evil one over to the devil (lines 42–75). Metanoia is not explicitly mentioned, but men are given the choice to turn to God and to succeed with his help and their own (physical) toil:

Righteous 103b-110 ὅδε μόχθον ἀλεύων

κρίνει διά[βολ]ον· λίσσ[ατ]ο δ᾿ αἶψα θεὸν

105 ὡς κέ μιν [αὖθι θέληι, νῦν ῥεζ]όμενον δικαίοισι

ἔργον ἀκαμά[του, ὡσ] θεράποντ᾿ ἐλεεῖν

ὅστις διαβόλωι ἄ[ντησ᾿ ἀε]σίφρονι θυμῶι

κε[ῖ]νος δ᾿ αὖ θερ[άπων ἔπ]λετο διαβόλου,

ἄλ[γ]εα μοχθίζω[ν τά οἱ ὤ]πασε λυγρὴ ἀπάτη,

110 δ[αίμ]ονι ἀστεργή[ς, πεί]θετο δ᾿ ἀφραδίηι

“Other man, keeping distress far away,

singles out the devil, and immediately prays to God

[105] that he [again wills to accomplish now] for the just

the work of an untiring man, [that] he takes pity of his servant,

who [faces] the devil with irrational heart,

he was before a ser[vant] of the devil,

[110] toiling with pains sent to him by baneful delusion.”

Such a complete turn towards God is difficult enough not only because of the action of the devil, but also because of the temptations and distractions of civic life:

Righteous 111–18 καιρὸς γὰρ δικαίοισι πέλεν ναίειν σ[ὺν ἀ]δήμοις

ἀρτυὶ ὠσαμένους ἔκτοθι κουριδίη[ν.

οὔτις γὰρ δίκαιος δύναται ναίων ἐ[νὶ] δήμωι

ἀγχόθι βουληφόρων καί ῥ᾿ ἀλόχου κ[εδ]νῆς

115 ὑψίστοιο θεοῦ θητεύεμεν. ἄλλα τε [βου]λῆι

ἠτ᾿ ἀλόχωι φορέων τοῖσιν ἄρεσκος ὑπ[ῆν.

πλούσιος ἠδὲ πένης, ποθέων κλέος ὤ[πασε] δήμῳ

καί ῥ ἀλόχῳ ἐχέμεν λανθανέει τε θεο[ῦ.

“The moment has arrived for the just ones to live [with] those who have retired from the world,

after sending back the wife with an arrangement.

Because no just man can, living in the world,

close to counsellors and a diligent wife,

serve God on high. But to the [coun]cil

or to the burdens of the wife he submits as he constantly wants to please them.

Rich or poor, he willingly seeks the glory for his city

and presents it to his wife, but he forgets God”

This may be a case of the writer and the scribes of the codex, but there is no single interpretation of the passage: this could be the reflection of a community of men who have retreated into some form of seclusion to reduce the risk of sinning, or the ‘woe is me’ of some saeculares trying to live their faith while in a marriage and as members of a civic community that relies on them to thrive. We have actually seen similar reflections in Ambrose’s De Paenitentia II.10.96 and Origen’s Exhor. ad mart. XXXVII.

Ambrose, Origen and the poet of Righteous coincide in requesting high standards of the Christian who has undergone metanoia, apparently incompatible with civic life, but no proof of a physical retreat from the world. We may be able to refer here to Rousseau’s interpretation of Basil’s high ethical and vital standards: “[1994, 200] Basil presented to communities in Caesarea and elsewhere principles that he considered were applicable to all; he then asked who among them would take the matter seriously; finally, in response to what was inevitably a smaller group, he gave special advice”, and Torrance (2012, p. 74) noting that at some point monastic repentance superseded the once-for-all repentance. The common language of both types makes it virtually impossible to know if the Righteous is demanding the overall application of the high standard,195 reflecting its restrictive application, or making a simultaneous call to the universal Church and to its particular addressees. Actually, the intent of the poet and the reading of the scribes of the C. Visionum may not have been exactly the same.

This admittedly long section on metanoia has brought to the surface the cultural, spiritual and pastoral complexities of the texts of the C. Visionum and broadly of late antique Christian literature, and proves that one of the central functions of Christian poetry is to make (literary) sense of difficult concepts, not necessarily the dogmas of the Creed, but rather those having an impact in the daily lives of the communities. We can only figure out the bottom lines of the poems of the Codex if we read them against the broadest possible late antique background: linking a series of poems copied in an Egyptian backwater area to arguments made by Origen of Alexandria, who had a long-lasting influence on the religious communities of the Egyptian chora,196 may not be surprising—finding similarities between the Codex Visionum and the writings of Ambrose, bishop of Milan, renews our awareness of the circulation of ideas and the construction of a true Christian koinonia. These poems may well date from the turning point in which high behavioural standards are demanded from all the members of the Church, and smaller groups of faithful in different places have started to search to realise the extraordinary forms of metanoia only possible for those who live beyond diocesan communities, what we may call pre-monastic metanoia.

4.4. Multiple Readings—Satisfying a Heterogeneous Audience?

The comparison with Origen triggers the additional question of whether the author of the VD depended on his method of spiritual reading of the Scripture, or on his actual exegesis of Gospel texts and homilies. The VD does not yield enough information for a positive conclusion, other than remarking on the proximity of the method of reading. We can, however, note that this is not the only point of convergence between the poems of the Codex Visionum and Origen’s writings. For instance, in both cases, deep knowledge comes from divine revelation, rather than from the Scriptures or from one’s own intellectual capacity. Thus, like The Shepherd of Hermas before, the Visio Dorothei does not reflect on other sources of knowledge but highlights that Dorotheus achieves his from his personal, oneiric experience of God.197 Further to this, the remaining poems constantly associate wisdom (σοφία) with God and God imparting his wisdom to those he loves and who live a righteous existence.198

Origen’s take on knowledge199 is well summed up in the Latin prologue of On First Principles, where he states that those who believe and know Christ to be the truth (Christum veritatem esse norunt), derive the knowledge (scientiam) to live a good and blessed life from Christ’s words and doctrine. When discussing the Gospel of John, Origen notes that Scripture does not contain the deepest mysteries of God, being a brief introduction to knowledge.200 On the other hand, true knowledge was revealed to relevant figures of the Old Testament before the incarnation,201 and full revelation will have to wait for the next life, which he envisioned as a schoolroom (On First Principles 2.11.4–6). The Letters of Antony, which Rubenson (1995) defended were influenced by Origen, also show signs of preference for knowledge by revelation. The Letters, however, reveal an additional emphasis on Christ revealing himself in the first coming and on the secondary revelation through the saints; they also insist that all human knowledge of God is preceded by self-knowledge.202 Livrea proposed in his 1986 recension of the VD a Gnostic reading of the text, because of the prominence of sophia, which was rejected by Hurst and Rudhardt in the 1999 editio princeps of the remaining poems of the codex.203

It is probably impossible to reach an agreement on the labels (Origenistic, Gnostic, standard?) we ought to use for these poems, and labels are of doubtful use. Firstly, because we simply do not have enough contemporary sources: the extant ones are not always helpful in the face of the complexity of the topics discussed (the source review on metanoia is a good example); later sources are frequently impossible to connect to factual information (e.g., the paraphrastic enterprise of the Apollinarii mentioned by Socrates and Sozomen), are mediated by polemics (Clark 1992 on the Origenist controversy) or effectively rewrite the past to make it more uniform and venerable (Goehring 1997).

Secondly, poetic texts are not univocal: by nature, they lend themselves to more than one reading, amongst other reasons because of their capacity to condense and collapse concepts and arguments. A Christian poet can thus exploit this characteristic to attract readers of different sensibilities with an ambiguous turn of phrase,204 and readers will inevitably tend to interpret passages from their own (theological) angles.

Finally, thirdly, ‘conservative’ poems, that is to say, those reaching out to multiple audiences (Gregory’s Nemesianus at the same time as any pagan in need of reasons for converting, and Christian readers wishing to convert their pagan friends), allowing multiple readings (metanoia for all and for the few) and easily connected to the basic texts (mainly the OT and the NT) were probably more likely to be copied by subsequent generations of Christian readers. We should probably be talking more about this: Christian poetry, like any literary form, aims to survive in a changing environment and will probably incorporate a number of strategies to facilitate a long afterlife.